You could be stuck. Or waiting. Or hiding.

Perhaps you need help. Or maybe you’re just taking a rest.

There are many reasons for being still.

Stillness might not be a problem; it might be the goal.

There’s a Welsh phrase that goes: “I’ll be there now in a minute.”

It’s akin to: “I’ll be there soon but I don’t know how soon,” or “I’m on my way but I’m not there yet.”

It plays with time. It leans toward mutual flexibility. It loosens expectations, but just a little.

And it’s delightful.

Part of life is learning to live with our own decisions.

The other part is learning to live with the decisions of others.

Both are necessary. Both can challenge us.

“I was fine up until …”

Isn’t this often the case?

We have skills. Knowledge. Patience. Judgement. Perspective.

All in different capacities and all at various levels.

And we’re good.

Until we’re not.

Because some situations stretch beyond our internal resources.

Perhaps it’s a game and we end up losing.

Or an area of study and we get lost.

Or a challenging interaction and we lose our temper.

Or a new question and we don’t know the answer.

Those “up until” moments are what challenge us the most. They’re the points where we get to exercise our composure and resilience. They’re tests — big and small — that remind us: we have limits.

And yet.

We always get to follow “up until” with our version of “and then …”

Sometimes we feel like we’re helping, but we’re not.

Sometimes we’re helping, but it doesn’t feel like it.

Our feelings, our actions, and the outcomes do not always track together.

Panic has a way of playing midwife to disaster.

When we react in fear, we sometimes accelerate toward the very thing we’re trying to avoid.

Remember: when we hit turbulence, the solution is not to jump out of the plane.

I spoke to an investment advisor who explained part of his role in this way:

“A lot of what I do is to help people manage fear and greed.”

Zero risk also means zero growth. Total risk could result in total loss.

The consideration feels appropriate for many situations.

As with many things, the wise spot is somewhere between the extremes.

Power without ego.
Influence without tyranny.
Possession without pretension.
Truth without condemnation.
Gravitas without losing humor and joy.

Pope Francis was a model of humility. A model of servant leadership. A champion for the poor and marginalized. May we continue to learn from his example.

In an empty sky, I saw two leaves floating 100 feet above the ground. The wind carried them away in a gentle dance. Meanwhile, countless other leaves remained on the ground, nearly unmoving.

It’s hard to predict which ideas will catch fire. Or which projects will resonate. Or when our words will move mountains.

All we can do is delight and wonder. And to continue trusting our voice, our work, and our participation in creation.

You might ask, “What time are we eating?”

But a better question is: “How can I help?”

* * *

Often, the way to bring about what we seek is to participate in the effort.

Good morning. Or good afternoon. Or maybe you’re reading this at night?

In a way, it matters. There are differences.

Because morning you is not the same as evening you. And Friday at 10:00 AM you is not the same as Wednesday at 1:00 PM you, or late-night weekend you.

Yes, they’re all you.

But we show up in different ways. We have different tendencies in different parts of the day. Different energy. Different levels of curiosity, patience, and humor.

What resonates at daybreak might not land the same way at sunset.

This is all to say that timing matters — in what we put out into the world as well as what we take in.

* * *

H/T: Ajike and Kayle

When we stumble backward, we’re at greater risk of falling.

When we stumble forward, we’re more likely to catch ourselves.

If you have the option, lean in.

Forward is the way.

A wild storm began to blow while I was in the grocery store. Rain, hail, thunder and lightning. The lights flickered, then they went out completely.

Darkness.

Seconds later, a few emergency lights illuminated, and notably — the cash registers.

I couldn’t see, but I’m guessing the refrigerators and freezers were connected to backup generators too.

It was pretty clear: Power’s out, but we can still do business.

It made me wonder: what systems do we keep operational, even during a metaphoric power outage? What habits and routines, what protocols do we maintain? What stays resolute when extenuating circumstances bump everything else off the rails?

What we keep protected — what gets attention during the outage — tells a lot about our priorities.

How do you move a bookstore? One book at a time.

At least, that’s how Serendipity Books did it in Chelsea, Michigan.

A team of 300 volunteers formed two human chains, and for two hours, they passed 9,100 books and hundreds of boxes, hand to hand, down the sidewalk.

Sometimes the most effective way to make a big change is little by little with a lot of helping hands.

H/T: The Sun Times News

“For all that has been, thanks! For all that will be, yes!”

(From the published journal of Swedish economist Dag Hammarskjöld, who served as the second Secretary-General of the United Nations.)

Listen again: “For all that has been, thanks! For all that will be, yes!”

Can our vision be wide enough to feel such gratitude? Can we trust enough to embrace the unknown future?

To be thankful for the good and the bad, the joys and the sorrows. And to be confident and hopeful in whatever may come.

It’s a mindset work considering.

“Won with the first attempt.”

or

“After trying and failing for years, coming so close and watching it slip away, questioning whether victory would ever be achieved … finally won.”

Both stories end with trophies, but one is a tale that will be told for years to come.

A win is a win, but hard-won victories are best.

At times, the pantry is full, but we find ourselves living on crumbs.

We might have even fallen into a crumb-focused rhythm without realizing it.

And yet the pantry is full.

Pause. Take inventory. Soak it in. Then eat.

It’s like the practice of mindful breathing. A deep, belly breath quickly brings awareness to what was an unconscious, shallow pattern.

So take a moment. Scoop a full measure.

Allow yourself to be filled.

Sometimes, all we need is for someone to witness. To be present to us and — if words are spoken — to listen.

Not to solve. Not to advise. Not to comment. Not to fix. Not even to understand.

Only to witness.

That simple presence is an act of love.

Often, it is enough.

And we’re all capable of giving such a gift.

Consider the influence of each:

• A broken finger

• A headache

• A sore elbow

• A herniated disk

• A failing kidney

Sometimes our trouble remains localized. Other times, a local trauma sends ripples through the whole system. Location matters. The network matters.

And there are parallels in the creative process, in our work, and in our personal projects.

The good thing is that the phenomenon can work both ways. The balm. The nourishment. The healing. When certain areas are nurtured, they can change the entire system too.

One of our tasks is to understand ourselves. To identify the systemic levers. And when we can, to invest in those areas that will yield positive change for the whole self.

Foive, fieve, fife, fahv, fie …

I could say the word “five” in many ways. If you hear the context, and if you’re willing, you’ll understand.

That is, we might walk together.

But if your ear is hardened and you’re firm, you won’t hear it. You’ll argue, “I don’t know what ‘foive’ means.” And for lack of perfect articulation and enunciation, the message will be lost.

To have a softer ear, a more sensitive ear, a more generous ear — is to be open to the lessons the world is aching to teach us.